


Analyse this.

by diemarysues



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes the threat of imminent nuclear catastrophe to speed up a (frankly inevitable) process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Analyse this.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HooperMolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooperMolly/gifts).



> Just what happens when I watch the movie too many times, and have ~thoughts.

When they first meet, Benji doesn’t have much of an impression of William Brandt.

 

He thinks he’s rather justified; there’re a lot of other things on his mind. That disaster of a mission at the Kremlin. The Kremlin being bombed. Escaping with Jane and thinking Ethan dead, only to have him reappear hours later, wet and with an equally sopping analyst. Disavowment. The death of the Secretary. Their new mission, and the madman they had to stop.

 

It’s…a lot to absorb. So the only time he really gets to take the other man in is when they’re standing in line at passport control.

 

There’s a backlog of passengers wanting to leave Russia, even here in St. Petersburg – obviously due to the explosion, gas leak or not. The four of them are to board a Rossiya-operated flight to Dubai, so at least there are less people than there would’ve been if they’d sprung for an Emirates flight in Terminal 2.

 

Beside him, Jane sighs and leans against his side. Benji’s arm comes up around her waist automatically; it’s easy to play the part of a couple travelling together, just because they’ve been on the same team for so long.

 

Jane once told him that she found it really easy to be comfortable around him. Benji still doesn’t really know if that was a compliment or an insult.

 

Up ahead and two lines over, Brandt stands with his hands in his pockets and looks utterly bored.

 

The man is something of a mystery. He’d hardly spoken in all the time they’d been in the train car, only offering faultlessly logical counters to the plan – expected, since he was an analyst. Chief Analyst of IMF, at that.

 

After about a minute Benji realises he’s been staring fixedly at the man. Having removed his jumper due to Pulkovo Airport’s sweltering heat, Brandt’s T-shirt is stretched across his shoulders in a sinfully delicious way.

 

Benji blushes a little and coughs, letting his eyes drop. Of course, there’s an obvious problem with that, and more colour rises to his cheeks.

 

“Where,” Jane’s voice breaks him out of his, er, thoughts, “did you get this hideous shirt?”

 

Benji nudges the bags beside him forward as the line moves on. “Don’t you remember buying it for me, darling?”

 

She just smiles and shakes her head. When Benji’s gaze returns to Line 5, he sees that Brandt has passed through. He inwardly shrugs. Not like they’re not heading to the same destination.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

The plan is crazy. He has to _jump_ 25 feet, possibly into the blades of a giant boiling fan, his only protection a suit and a rover that essentially equate to two fridge magnets, for God’s sake – but Will can’t help but wonder if Benji is _actually_ flirting with him. Or maybe it’s his imagination. Because no way the blond Englishman was interested. Right?

 

If Will is honest, Benji is his type inasmuch as he has blue eyes (and you can tell Will’s being honest because he’s admitted that he has a ‘type’). But there’s something about the tech expert that has Will utterly drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

 

Flame. Hot. Oven. He could be roasted alive in a few hours.

 

Okay, no, not good thoughts to have. Thoughts of Benji being attractive aren’t very wise to consider, but they were better than dwelling on imminent death.

 

Benji is…sweet. Yeah. Will honestly can’t see anyone actively disliking Benji. He’s intelligent, and a more-than-competent technician – still unused to being a field agent, clearly, but getting there.

 

The dimmed lights in the cabin and the laptop screen draw shadows on Benji’s face, throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief. He hunches over the computer, tapping at the keys, and Will can’t help but recall how many modifications and inventions and contributions he’d made to the IMF within a year of being accepted into its ranks.

 

It’s odd, Will thinks. Benji had been well on his way to making his name as a technician, and yet he’d set out to and succeeded in becoming a field agent. Will wonders what had triggered that decision. He wonders what went on in Benji’s head, how his mind worked.

 

 

 

“Brandt?”

 

Will blinks.

 

“Hello? Earth to Brandt? Can you read me?”

 

“Call me Will,” he replies absently, before freezing.

 

Benji throws him an easy grin. “As soon as I get used to it, I will, Will.”

 

He finds himself returning the grin tentatively. “So, um, you wanted something?”

 

“Yeah. I’m going to raid the galley, want food?”

 

“I’ll come with.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

“You alright? Brandt, you okay?”

 

Benji is shaking his arm, voice urgent, and Will wants to ask about the man’s bloody fingers but can’t form the words. His chest heaves as he tries to get in as much oxygen as possible, his heart racing. The adrenaline’s starting to wear off, a bit, and he can feel his aching muscles, can feel the burns on his skin –

 

“Will!”

 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine. Thanks, man.”

 

Benji, kneeling on the floor next to him, just laughs a little. He shakes his head like he can’t believe what’d just happened. “Yeah, no problem.”

 

They’re offered a moment of silence, catching their breaths before Will’s practicality snaps him to reality. “D’you – d’you think Ethan got to the kill switch in time?”

 

The answer is casual. Easy. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“We did it. We completed the mission.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

Benji sighs, his façade of optimism slipping. “Look. We can’t know anything until Ethan calls. ‘M pretty sure this’s happened to you before –”

 

Will snorts.

 

“Okay, maybe not the exact same circumstances with the whole crazy evil genius who blew up the Kremlin and is trying to start a nuclear war to precipitate world peace thing, but you know what I mean. All we can do is wait it out.”

 

His argument is reasonable and utterly irrefutable. It _is_ protocol to wait for the team leader’s next orders – even if there is no IMF to reprimand them should they choose to disregard it. Even if there might not ever be an IMF to reprimand them should they choose to disregard it.

 

Benji just watches him calmly, and Will finally gives a short nod.

 

“C’mon. Can you get up?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Benji helps him up anyway, pulling him to his feet, and Will finds himself missing the other man’s touch as soon they separate. No idea why, but – he just does.

 

“Let’s get Jane to a hospital before she bleeds out.” Benji touches his elbow once (probably unconsciously) to urge him forward.

 

Without thinking, Will grabs his wrist. (Thankfully, Benji doesn’t automatically twist out of his grip and throw him down on the floor.)

 

“Brandt, wh –”

 

He doesn’t meet Benji’s eyes. “I know, I know it’ll be awhile before we’re actually affected by the nuclear attack – if it even comes –, but I just, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna die with regrets, and –”

 

Benji kisses him.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

They’re alive. They’re alive, they’re alive, they should be giddy and happy – and they are, there’s no doubt about it. They should probably be taking this slow but they’re _alive_ , and they’ve averted a nuclear crisis.

 

They averted a _nuclear_ _crisis_.

 

Benji’s bandaged fingers still sting as he practically rends the clothes off Brandt’s body, shoves him onto the bed, but he’s not thinking with his fingers, is he? There’s a brief struggle as they try to get the tight-fitting metal bodysuit off him, but the reward is one naked Chief Analyst – as he’d foregone underwear to get the damn thing on.

 

Will is properly fit – which is to be expected. Benji moans softly at the sight of the man spread out against the sheets, like some…stupidly perfect moron. Brandt grins at him, and Benji’s breath catches in his throat, distracted for long enough that next thing he knows, he’s on his back under the other man.

 

Well, no complaints.

 

They’re bruised, Will especially, but they’re not gentle. They’re not gentle. There’s biting and scratching and pushing and pulling, moans and whimpers and near-fucking-screams. They make each other come apart several times that night, relieving those few days of high-stress and sexual tension.

 

“Benji,” Will whispers, his large hand wrapped securely around both their cocks. “Benji, come for me.”

 

Benji shudders in his arms, and does.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

Debriefing is over, and Will wants nothing more than to sleep. He waits, however; waits by Benji’s car. It’s a dark blue Ford Fiesta, a hatchback. One of the most affordable small cars in the US. More and more meaningless facts come to his mind – price range, place of manufacture, customer base –, until someone clears their throat and Will blinks.

 

“Need a lift?” Benji asks, eyebrows raised.

 

The corner of Will’s mouth curls upwards. “Nah. Just wanted to…” he trails off. What _did_ he want to do?

 

“To…?”

 

Will’s hands clench in the safety of his pockets. “To – Benji. About India.”

 

The other man’s expression doesn’t change, although it looks like a shutter has dropped in front of his eyes. “What about India?”

 

“Do you regret it?”

 

Benji jingles his keys and squints into a corner of the parking lot. “Do _you_?”

 

He can still remember the weight of Benji’s head pillowed on his abdomen. “No.”

 

Benji’s gaze snaps to his. “Wh – pardon? What?”

 

“No, I don’t regret it.” He’s studiously looking away, now, seeing if he can count the number of cars in the lot and group them according to colour. “Maybe we could blame it all on the stress of impending global destruction, or of our potential deaths – but I don’t want to. I think…if we’d somehow met under different circumstances, it’d still have happened. Maybe after a coupla beers and other, normal conditions. But it’d still have happened. I’d’ve wanted it to have happened.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Benji smile. Surely that’s a good sign?

 

“Okay,” says Benji.

 

That’s it? “Okay?”

 

He nods, smile wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Will’s smiling as well, now, and he has to rub the back of his neck to distract himself from the sudden spike of shyness. “So, um, lunch? Tomorrow? I can send you the address of the place.”

 

“Yeah. You do that.”

 

Without any prompting, the both of them move closer to each other. Benji’s still got his arms crossed over his chest, and Will just runs the tip of his nose across the other man’s cheek. Someone walks past but they pay her no mind, just breathing in each other’s air. Finally, Benji steps back slightly, reluctantly.

 

“You’d best be off, Agent Brandt.”

 

He thinks his cheeks are going to hurt from all the smiling he’s been doing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Dunn.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

When Benji startles awake, he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his heart is beating annoyingly fast. He shivers as he passes a hand over his eyes, dissipating the remnant images of his nightmare.

 

The first night this had happened was after they’d returned from India. That had been the worst one. Benji had woken up with a scream in his throat, the scene of hundreds of people caught in a nuclear blast seared onto his eyelids.

 

Every nightmare after that has been exactly the same. He actually goes to bed every night anticipating one – but the effects are the same. All attempts of stopping them have so far been in vain, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.

 

He has to get up. He needs to go distract himself, needs to eat something or wash his face or play Red Alert 3 or, something. He needs to stop replaying what could have happened in his head. Needs to stop wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled the trigger in time, if he had missed, if –

 

The rustle of cloth almost makes Benji scramble to grab something to use as a weapon – but then he realises it’s Will, still asleep beside him. It’s the first time they’ve spent the night together since India. The brunette turns over, throwing an arm across Benji’s waist, and the ex-technician sighs quietly at his thwarted escape. Staring up at the ceiling, he resigns himself to trying to fall asleep again when Will speaks.

 

“Nightmare?”

 

He glances to the side. Will’s eyes are still closed. “Did I wake you up?”

 

“Mmmyeah. Doesn’t matter. Light sleeper.”

 

They all had to be (or learn), if they were going to survive as field agents. “Sorry,” he mutters.

 

“What was it? What happened?”

 

“S’just a dream, nightmare, figment of my imagination. Likely during my REM cycle. I should – we should just get back to sleep, maybe? Not that we have a big day scheduled, but maybe there’ll be a mission, you never know.” He laughs. “I mean, IMF’s not exactly famous for giving your much warning, but to be fair, they’re not famous, wouldn’t be very efficient if –”

 

Will’s voice cuts quietly through his nervous prattle. “Benji.”

 

He sighs and sits up. Digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “India,” he says tightly, and that one word is enough. He feels Will moving, feels one large hand cup his knee.

 

“D’you wanna tell me?” Will’s tone is soft, making it clear that he’s not going to push.

 

It all comes out in a rush. Benji doesn’t even know if he’s making sense, but the words tumble out of his mouth all the same. Slowly, at first, as he gets over his hesitation (and the novelty) of telling someone his problems. Then he starts talking faster and faster, peripherally aware that he’s becoming slightly hysterical and finding that he can’t actually stop. He’s spurred on by an unknown force, tightening his chest and making it hard from him to breathe, and those eyes, those dead, dead blue eyes, staring at him accusingly because he couldn’t, because he didn’t –

 

“Benji!”

 

He has to physically clap a palm over his mouth, swallowing hard. There are no tears in his eyes, but Benji bitterly wishes that he _could_ cry. It’s a hollow hope that doing so would make him feel better.

 

Benji suddenly, keenly misses his sister. She’s halfway across the world and would likely have smacked him behind the head, but that’s what he usually needed to sort himself out. Will’s still talking, though, and Benji makes himself latch onto the cool, calm voice. He pushes down his nausea, and listens.

 

“Benji. Benji, it’s fine. It’s fine. You did it.” He squeezes Benji’s knee. “You shot Wistrom, and because of that you saved thousands from being annihilated, millions from dying from the fallout. You did that. You saved them.”

 

“That’s not what – that’s not what I –”

 

Will frowns, and pulls Benji’s hands from his face like he’s trying to pull Benji back to the present. “Then what?”

 

“If…if I’d missed, if I hadn’t shot Wistrom…Then I’d have lost you.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

“You just, you took the phone and left without seeing if I would – what if I hadn’t accepted the mission, Benji? What if I…”

 

“You accepted it, didn’t you?”

 

“That’s not the point.” Will clenches his jaw, rubbing the back of his neck. Ethan’s admission had eased a hefty weight off his chest, but now – now he couldn’t… “What if I hadn’t?”

 

Benji’s brows are furrowed. “Then you’d’ve been assigned to another team. What’s the problem?”

 

Will stares at him flatly. “And that’s fine, is it?”

 

“Yeah?” He looks utterly baffled, like he thinks Will’s being an idiot.

 

“You wouldn’t have been…disappointed?”

 

“Disappointed in what?” Still mystified.

 

“In…” Will’s face is hot, and he takes a steadying breath. “Never mind. Just, just forget about it.”

 

“Will.” Benji’s smiling now, and he sets his book aside before swinging his legs off the bed. “Come here.” He guides Will to stand between his thighs, fingers slipping into the beltloops of his cargo pants. His eyes, as he looks up at Will, are teasing and soft and make the brunette slightly nervous.

 

“What?” Will blurts out.

 

The smile doesn’t slip off Benji’s face. “You. What possibly made you think I’d ever be disappointed in you?”

 

“Well, I don’t – I thought you’d’ve liked to be on the same team. I would.”

 

“And we are,” Benji points out.

 

“But we could’ve not been!” Will frowns. It’s like Benji’s deliberately trying not to understand. “And more than that, what if I’d decided to go back to being Chief Analyst? What if, what if I’d not gone back to the field ever again?”

 

Benji doesn’t answer at first, instead leaning back a little and tugging on Will’s beltloops. Obligingly Will follows, ending up in Benji’s lap. He sighs as lips caress the side of his neck and allows himself the selfishness of purely enjoying the feeling.

 

“I’m not going to point out that by accepting the mission you are on our team and you are going to be in the field –”

 

Will rolls his eyes.

 

“But listen. You could quit the IMF and decide to be a, a strawberry farmer or an underwear model –” he cups Will’s backside demonstratively “– and I’d still not be disappointed. In fact, I think I’d want autographed posters of you that I could take along with me on missions. Can we do that anyway?”

 

Will huffs a laugh, cradling the back of Benji’s head in his hand. “A bit moot, since _I’ll_ be going with you on missions.”

 

Benji’s expression grows even brighter, if possible. “That’s true. Good. I like that very much.”

 

Will wants to shake his head, but instead he leans down and seals his lips over Benji’s. Theirs is a slow brush of mouths against each other. Gentle. Soft. Will rests his hands on Benji’s bare shoulders, running his thumbs along his collarbones and revelling at the warmth against his palms.

 

Benji hums quietly before pulling back, his self satisfied smile eliciting flutters in Will’s stomach.

 

“Now,” Benji breathes, “get your teeth brushed. Then come to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I realise that the depth of feelings achieved within the space of 3 or 4 weeks might not be so realistic but I'm claiming poetic license what with life threatening situations and also fuck it I do what I want. I'd like to point out that they're not living with each other. (Yet.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or this universe. 
> 
> Unbetaed.


End file.
